Draco Malfoy's Healing Therapy
by faithwood
Summary: Harry is sick, but Draco knows how to make him feel better. Humour. Fluff. HPDM. SLASH. ONESHOT.


**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling and Warner Brothers. No copyright infringement intended.  
**Title:** Draco Malfoy's Healing Therapy

**Author:** Faith Wood  
**Pairing: **Harry/Draco  
**Rating: **PG-13  
**Word Count: **1700  
**Genre: **Humour & Fluff  
**Status: **Complete  
**Summary: **Harry is sick, but Draco knows how to make him feel better.  
**Note: **This is a belated birthday present for Harry. He gets a caring, sweet Draco. Y'know, unlike all those nasty Dracos I've been writing. :D Also, he gets a bad cold. /

A big thank you to everyone who reviewed/reviews my stories! And thank you for bearing with me while I spam you like mad.

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Draco Malfoy's Healing Therapy

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An odd scent penetrated Harry's dreams and pulled him out of his fitful sleep. The scent wasn't bad, but Harry was feeling horrible, so the strong aroma twisted his stomach unpleasantly. His throat hurt and tickled, and a sudden coughing fit rendered him fully awake.

A cool hand pressed against his burning forehead and that should have been alarming since Harry knew he had been quite alone when he had gone to bed, but it merely felt heavenly. The coughing subsided when Harry rose up into a sitting position, and the hand that had cooled his forehead moved away to massage his back.

"How are you feeling?" The question was whispered against his ear, the gentleness infused into the words almost soothing the pain in Harry's throat.

"Draco." Harry coughed out the name, then cleared his throat and continued in a scratchy voice, "What are you doing here?"

"I asked you a question." Draco sounded annoyed, but his hand was still gently stroking Harry's back.

"I asked you a question too," Harry said petulantly. "You should be working."

"Do you even know what time it is? My shift's over. And I asked you first."

"I'm fine. It's just a cold. I took some potions." Harry turned a little so he could peer into Draco's face. For the lack of a better description, Draco looked grumpy and Harry felt a pang of guilt. "I'm sorry I've cancelled our date for this evening. I'm sure I'll feel better tomorrow."

Draco's jaw clenched. "Yes, you've cancelled our date. By kindly sending me a note _without_ mentioning you're sick."

"I didn't want to worry you."

Unexpectedly, Draco growled and then took out his wand, waving it around. Harry watched a bit apprehensively, until a tray floated over and then stopped, hovering right in front of him. The tray contained a bowl of chicken soup and a spoon.

"Where did you get it?" Harry asked, impressed. Draco wasn't someone who could be trusted to acquire food.

"I floo-ed the house-elfs in the Manor," Draco said distractedly as he was still waving his wand, this time in the direction of Harry's pillows. "Come on, sit up here," Draco bossed around, but Harry was too tired to argue.

He settled himself on the pillows that felt softer and fresher now, and they were arranged so Harry could sit comfortably. The tray had followed Harry's backward retreat and once again it was hovering in front of him.

"Eat," Draco prompted.

Harry didn't really feel like eating, but since Draco went through the trouble of getting this for him, it seemed rude to refuse.

Harry had already picked up the spoon when Draco suddenly yelled, "No! Don't eat!"

Confused, Harry dropped the spoon and watched warily as Draco picked it up, stirred the soup and then tasted it delicately. "It's fucking hot," he complained, stirring the soup again. "Why did they make it hot?"

"That usually happens when you cook food," Harry said before he could stop himself.

Draco ignored him in favour of blowing into the hot liquid.

Bemused, Harry stared and commented, "You don't have to do that. I'm not so sick I can't _blow_."

Pursing his lips, Draco looked at him sideways, his eyes twinkling. It took Harry's fuzzy brain a couple of second to realize what he had said.

"Idiot," he murmured fondly, feeling his hot face heat up further. "Do you have something against Cooling Charms?" Harry asked, wishing Draco would stop cooling his soup like this. There was something about it that made him feel odd. Like it was too intimate.

"They would cool it completely." Draco tasted the soup again and handed the spoon to Harry. "You can eat it now," he declared.

Reluctantly, Harry obeyed, but after a couple of spoonfuls he discovered he had actually been hungry, and the warm liquid soothed his sore throat and then settled nicely in his stomach.

Draco took the opportunity to carefully examine all the potion vials stacked on Harry's night cabinet, opening and sniffing them, looking very displeased, but since he hadn't said a word during his inspection, Harry concluded Draco was merely displeased because he hadn't found anything to be displeased about.

"You're feverish," Draco commented matter-of-factly, as Harry finished his soup. "When can you take the Fever-Reducing Potion again?"

As Draco took the tray away, Harry pondered the question long and hard. He had no idea when he had taken the potion the last time, and quite frankly he didn't really know how often he could take it, but it would be unwise to tell Draco this. Harry really wanted to say, "Right now," because chills crept along his spine and shook his body, but that sounded like an obvious lie.

So Harry scrunched up his face and said, "In an hour?"

Draco nodded and stood up, apparently convinced. "Need anything else?"

"No." Harry shook his head, fumbling with the pillows and pulling them lower so he could lie down. "Thank you," he said honestly.

This had been an unexpected, although a welcome surprise, but Draco was obviously on his way out and Harry concluded that was a sensible thing to do. Harry was used to being alone when sick and miserable, sparing others of the sight. He was a wretched company when sick, and Draco must have realized that.

Except, Draco wasn't leaving, he was ... _stripping_.

"Um." Harry watched, perplexed, as Draco tossed his shirt away. "I ... we can't have sex now, Draco," he said patiently, although he felt a bit miffed. "Can't you see that I'm not well?"

Draco scowled at him as he took off his trousers. His underwear was soon tossed away as well, leaving Draco completely and gloriously naked.

Harry was having second thoughts.

Sure, he was sick, but well, technically, he could just lay back and be still, and Draco could straddle him and do all the work himself. Something that definitely had some benefits. Harry thoughts turned wild and in his mind he already saw Draco on top of him, naked and smiling wickedly, preparing himself and then sliding down onto —

"Awful!" Draco said disdainfully.

Harry snapped back to reality in which Draco was ransacking his closet, apparently trying to rob him. Though Harry wasn't paying much attention to anything else beside Draco's still naked arse.

"Is everything you own green?" Draco grumbled and then pulled out and put on a very dark green something, that turned out to be one of Harry's pyjamas.

Harry frowned, not able to fathom why Draco had dressed himself. That was just crazy.

Unaware he was crazy, Draco walked back towards the bed, and shoving Harry lightly to the side, he slipped beneath the covers.

"Come here," he said, grabbing Harry around the waist. Too confused to argue, Harry allowed Draco to manhandle him until his back was pressed against Draco's chest, and Draco's arms were firmly wrapped around Harry's torso.

"Now what?" Harry demanded, mystified.

Draco sighed into Harry's neck and then said in a muffled voice, "Now you should rest, and I'll wake you up in an hour so you can take your potion."

Harry swallowed thickly. "Oh."

This was strange. This could be labelled as _cuddling_. And Draco wasn't very cuddly as far as Harry knew, and they had been together for a couple of months now.

Another coughing fit reminded Harry about something and when he regained his breath he warned, "I could be contagious."

"Don't be stupid. It's just a cold," was Draco's unconcerned reply.

"But it's the middle of the day. I'm sure you have to be somewhere. Or do something important."

"This is important," Draco said softly.

Harry's nose started tickling and his eyes watered, so he rose up to reach for a tissue paper. Sniffing, he blew his nose wetly.

"I swear," Draco growled, "if you start blubbering over this —"

"I have a cold! Sniffing is a side-effect," Harry argued, blinking rapidly and trying to quell the sudden onslaught of emotions.

When he was done, Draco pulled him closer again.

"You don't have to do this," Harry mumbled, "I didn't tell you anything this morning because I didn't want you to feel obligated —"

"You are a selfish prat, Harry," Draco informed him flatly.

"_What?_" Harry gasped. "How is that selfish?"

"If I was sick and lying at home miserable, would you want to be with me?"

"Of course!" Harry said quickly, horrified with this thought.

"Then why are you trying to deny me my right of taking care of my sick boyfriend?"

Harry scowled, annoyed he couldn't find an argument against this. "I just didn't want to be a bother."

"Well, you don't have to worry about that." Draco pressed a wet kiss against Harry's neck and then added, "No matter how much you try, you're always a bother. You're just lucky I happen to like it when you're bothering me."

Harry grinned, somewhat reassured that Draco wasn't here just because he felt he ought to be. "Are you sure that _bothering_ was the word you were looking for?" he teased.

"Oh shut up and sleep."

Touched and content, and smiling widely despite his sore throat and runny nose, Harry did as he was told, snuggling closer into Draco's embrace. "I can't wait to tell everyone I know how my boyfriend likes to cuddle me when I'm sick."

"Well, I can't wait to tell everyone I know how my boyfriend woke up one day and discovered his balls vanished," Draco threatened darkly.

Harry laughed, coughing a little. "You wouldn't vanish my balls. You like them too much," he said confidently.

Draco didn't deny that but merely shushed him. "Stop coughing," he instructed unrealistically. "Do you think I should move away? Maybe I'm just raising your fever."

"Oh yes. I mean, no!" Harry quickly grabbed Draco's hands, in fear Draco would move away. "I've just discovered an amazing cure for awful colds. Now you're stuck with me until I feel better."

"Until you feel better? And then what — you'll dump me?"

"Then I'll shag you, and that's a different kind of stuck-with-me situation, one that I know you're fond of."

"I'm fond of this too, you idiot."

Harry's nose tickled again and he sniffed wetly, reaching for another tissue paper.

Draco sighed. "You are utterly silly."

"Well, that's just your bad luck," Harry said, tossing the tissue away, and snuggling closer to Draco. "Because now you're definitely never getting rid of me."

"That was my ingenious plan all long," Draco said gently, smiling, and kissing the top of Harry's head.

Harry sniffed. "I'm going to need more tissues."

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Fin

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End file.
